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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038555">a haunted house with a picket fence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/telekinetics/pseuds/telekinetics'>telekinetics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Code Geass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, also vaaaaague implications of mari/cc if u wanna read it like that, barbie dolls as a plot device, kallen is also there but not long enough for me 2 tag her but I love her she's perfect, pre canon during canon AND post canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:28:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/telekinetics/pseuds/telekinetics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And their discordant triad stayed like that—not sleeping, not talking, not moving—and they were many things then; they were the whole of humanity, they were the edge of forever, they were a three-headed creature, a losing battle, a house on fire, a sinking ship, a train careening forward full-stop, waiting for the collision.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>C.C. &amp; Kururugi Suzaku &amp; Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Nunnally vi Britannia &amp; Kururugi Suzaku</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a haunted house with a picket fence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>my extent of knowledge on wine is knowing how to spell sauvignon and my extent of knowledge on barbie dolls is that they are barbie dolls also writing this is hard bc cc &amp; lulu talk like fucking Hannibal characters<br/>[title from I Know the End]<br/>set after the end and before the beginning and during Those 3 Months</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was not much about Lelouch that C.C. could trace back to Marianne, other than a propensity for the dramatic and twin pairs of eyes that hardened when angry. Marianne the Flash may have been fiery in life, death, and the in-between, but her fury, her true fury, was the incredulous and contained sort; mouth pressed together tightly; the slightest knot in her brow; a petulant, raised jaw that sung of royalty—even if she’d been born a commoner—so C.C had always been caught off guard by Marianne’s anger and how demanding it was. It wanted something. To eat her whole, perhaps. To eat the world whole. At the very least, it wanted something that C.C could never provide. Her favorite feature of Marianne’s had been her eyes, and she’d never let that slip, but there was always a burning shame in her gut when the enraged Empress would stare at her unflinchingly, wordlessly daring her to break eye contact—like she knew C.C couldn’t do it, like she was mocking C.C for the desperate drive to hold onto Marianne the moving target for as long as possible. </p><p>When Marianne got angry, Marianne got mean. Her eyes turned cold and snide. She’d tell C.C. that she was too sad, too passive, that C.C was boring her. Sometimes C.C. fought back, but C.C was always cold and snide. It didn’t have the same leverage. Marianne’s day-to-day was a vibrance unmatched by the hot ball of sun suspended in the sky, a childlike glee that C.C was addicted to, and thousands of years of contracts and discarded wishes and loneliness could never have prepared her for how jarring it was whenever Marianne’s fury turned her glacial. </p><p>And from the very beginning, she’d known Lelouch was different. Lelouch was closed off, and awkward, and ridiculous. Always turning to look behind his shoulder, yet always leading with the king. Lelouch, too, turned mean when mad, but he was always so predictable. At first she’d been disappointed by him. She’d talk to Marianne in her head about it, complaining that her son wasn't at all what she’d been expecting, that she’d had high hopes for a challenge at the very least, and Marianne would impishly laugh, like she thought both C.C. and Lelouch were children. Lelouch <em>was</em> a child. Lelouch had been seventeen years old when they’d met, Lelouch had been eighteen years old when he’d died. </p><p>She tugged her knees to her chest, staring blankly out the window of the palace, her chin pressed to the pane. At first she’d been so disappointed by him. Now she just wanted him back. </p><p>“His eyes would get cold, as well.” Her breath fogged up the glass. She mindlessly drew a line. C.C. knew Marianne had no way of answering, not anymore, but habit meant she sometimes talked out loud to her anyway. “When he was mad he became a Medusa. In some ways, he was such a little prince, Marianne. Entitled and indignant.”</p><p>But Lelouch and Marianne were completely different. Marianne was in control of her anger. Lelouch only ever thought he was. His eyes burned and burned, revealing everything. His intensity wasn’t channeled into pirouetting or horseback riding, no, the lines of Lelouch’s body were always sharpened, his teeth well-hidden, but ready to be bared.</p><p>Lelouch wasn’t Marianne. He’d been her accomplice, he’d been her friend, where Marianne had lied. </p><p>It was a month after the Zero Requiem and she’d snuck into Suzaku’s room. She didn’t have a reason why. She certainly didn’t want to see Suzaku Kururugi. But she knew the imposter would be meeting formally with the Black Knights tonight to talk about how they would all proceed in the wake of the Demon Emperor’s death and the return of Zero. So he wouldn’t be dragging his feet back just yet. She kicked her legs out, lying flat across the bay window. She was so bored. In the days, weeks, months following Lelouch’s assassination, C.C. had watched the world dull. Not the general world—they were all still triumphant after being released from the clutches of their evil overlord, or however the propaganda was painting it—but her world. It’d happened before: when you were ancient, things started to collect dust. The difference was that she’d felt comfortable in a process of over a thousand years. This time around, what little life she was learning to flirt with again had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye. </p><p>She shifted so that she was upside down, her head hanging over the seat and her hair pooling on the floor. Her eyes flit around the room as curiously as the pathologically incurious can manage to be. It didn’t look lived in at all. In the dim light, everything was the same color. There was an open suitcase tucked next to a nightstand, with a few changes of clothes here and there. There was a photograph, unframed, lying face down. This room, too, was collecting dust. She briefly wondered how Suzaku intended on living at the palace without anybody else finding out his identity, before deciding that it didn’t matter and that she didn’t care and that she hoped people found out he was Zero, actually, and then maybe what he’d done to Lelouch would get done to him. Except, of course, that wouldn’t happen because everybody thought Lelouch was a monster and Zero was their savior. C.C. uncurled her hand from the tight grip she’d had on the bay window. Better if the people didn’t know. This way, the world would think Suzaku Kururugi was a monster too. </p><p>She hated Lelouch for all of this. She hated Suzaku even more. She remembered when he’d told her that he was Lelouch’s sword, so she must be Lelouch’s shield, and it had all sounded so impactful and important—did Suzaku believe the things he said? C.C. didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell—but how did they ever expect her to be Lelouch’s shield? How was she supposed to protect Lelouch when he’d already made up his mind that he had to die? She hated the two of them for coming up with it all in the first place; there was nothing more infuriating than two little boys convinced that being humanity’s saving grace meant they would one day go to heaven. She knew they wouldn’t. </p><p>She had no interest in hating Lelouch, so she hated Suzaku twice over. She wanted to feel something and the uglier emotions came easier to those out of practice. Or maybe Suzaku truly was more deserving of it. It may have been Lelouch’s plan—Lelouch, a childish martyr, his notions of the world completely disintegrating alongside his parents—but some part of her had believed Suzaku wouldn’t go through with it and then Suzaku did. And what right did he have? What did either of them have left now? C.C. knew plenty about broken promises and unfulfilled favors. If every single goddamn person she’d ever contracted, including Lelouch, had denied her her wish, then Suzaku could have denied Lelouch. </p><p>She almost laughed. The idea of Suzaku denying Lelouch anything near the end was fantastical and quixotic. He wanted his pathetic salvation more than any of them. </p><p>She stared blankly at the ceiling. She willed herself to feel something. To want something. But there wasn’t anything, not anymore, just a blank and idle buzzing in her head. She swung back up, walking over to the nightstand and turning the photograph over. It was a picture of what had to be Lelouch, Suzaku, and Nunnally when they were impossibly young. The three of them were smiling blindingly, even Lelouch, and it was so real, so palpable, that C.C. pocketed it. Then, footsteps. Approaching footsteps, far away but getting closer. Quickly, she turned back to the pane, unlatched the lock, and swiftly made her escape. </p><p>She made sure to leave the window open. </p><p>—</p><p>Three weeks before the Zero Requiem, Suzaku was greeted with the sight of Lelouch and C.C. playing with Barbie dolls in the Royal Suite. The latter was sprawled across the floor, mindlessly brushing the hair of a Barbie decked out in garish Fairy Princess attire. Suzaku noticed that her ankles were locked around Lelouch, who appeared to be doing permanent nerve damage to his neck for fun—he was violently swinging his head up and down, furiously jotting down observations on a scene he must have laid out himself; two royal purple pillows, each with a doll standing straight and tall, facing the other. One seemed to be holding a calligraphy pen and aiming it at their counterpart. A truly bizarre number of Barbies with varying degrees of themed and/or avant-garde fashion sat around them, watching. </p><p>“Uh.” Suzaku said, forgetting for a second the thick layer of dicey avoidance he and Lelouch had been operating under for the past two months. </p><p>“Shoo.” C.C. sang, eyes flicking up. Her head was tilted slightly to the left, her expression tauntingly blank and inexpressive in a way that made Suzaku’s fists clench involuntarily. She didn’t make any move to indicate she’d seen this, but the corners of her lips shifted up. Just barely. Almost imperceptible. “We’re working, Kururugi. Goodbye.”</p><p>Lelouch said nothing. </p><p>“Working.” Suzaku echoed. He’d been meaning for it to come across as dry, but judging by the roll of C.C.’s eyes and the strangled, confused way his own voice sounded in his ears—he’d missed the mark. </p><p>“Yes. Working. It’s not all extrajudicial killings or cruel and unusual punishment, you know?” And before Suzaku could retort, she continued, “Or, I guess, you don’t know. Our poor, tortured Knight of Zero, all the grunt work <em>does </em>end up going to you. What is it the papers are calling you these days?”</p><p>Suzaku clenched his jaw. C.C. looked at him unflinchingly. Lelouch said nothing. </p><p>“What are you working on?” Suzaku asked, pointedly closing the door behind him. He took a few tentative steps into the room. C.C. shifted her weight onto her hand and sighed, giving one of her co-conspirator dolls a disapproving look. </p><p>“So many questions.” </p><p>“That’s the first question he’s asked.” Lelouch cut in, as he changed the positioning of one of the Barbies so that it stood at a slight diagonal. </p><p>“You’re supposed to be impervious to distractions, your majesty.” C.C. taunted, reaching for the ridiculous Emperor’s hat that lay discarded at Lelouch’s feet. She placed it firmly on his head, and it was only then that Suzaku noticed that Lelouch wasn’t wearing the whole getup right now, having opted instead for a far more subdued nightgown. He frowned, examining the lacy frills and puffed sleeves. ‘Far more subdued’ but only by default. Like how an elephant is a far more subdued version of a mammoth. </p><p>“You’re more impish than usual tonight, witch.” Lelouch said, leaning back to peer down at his masterpiece, and Suzaku made the decision to step closer. Lelouch’s eyes quickly shifted to where Suzaku’s feet stood, then just as quickly shifted back. He wasn’t sure whether he’d imagined it or not. </p><p>“And you’re boring me. Both of you.” C.C. pulled her legs to her chest, chin resting on her knees. Her eyes met Suzaku’s. “You’re casting a shadow on us.”</p><p>“What?” He instinctively took a step back. </p><p>“On the dolls, Kururugi. You’re casting a shadow on the dolls.”</p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>“Sit down.”</p><p>He did.</p><p>They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, taking turns between watching the dolls and watching Lelouch watch the dolls. Suzaku found himself doing the latter more. It was odd to think that the only version of Lelouch he’d been privy to in a long time was a mask. He knew the Demon Emperor wasn’t a reflection of who Lelouch actually was—but, then again, Suzaku didn’t quite make it a conscious choice to remember that, not really. What was the point when Suzaku barely knew the person behind the mask of Emperor, or the mask of Zero? What was the point when Suzaku had spent the better part of a year convincing himself there wasn’t a person behind those masks at all? As far as he’d been concerned, his childhood friend was dead on arrival from the moment they found each other again. All Lelouch had ever done was lie. </p><p>But then, Suzaku had lied too. Even as a kid. And he’d had everybody around him lying as well, diplomats and family members rushing to cover up the crimes of a ten-year old boy’s malignant naivety. Watching Lelouch now, watching as Lelouch treated his task with fragility, with care, watching the slight frown and the way his eyes were dark with worry—with nerves? What could Lelouch Vi Britannia, beggar of God, possibly be afraid of now?—watching Lelouch, Suzaku wondered what a world where they’d only ever been honest with each other would look like. </p><p>“It isn’t right.” Lelouch said, his mouth spread in a thin line. Suzaku turned from him to look at C.C., only to find her staring right back at him. She looked extremely unimpressed. Suzaku held her gaze defiantly.</p><p>To his surprise, she almost smiled.</p><p>“What are the two of you doing? Enough.” Lelouch complained, rapping his fist on the marble floors. “Enough staring at each other. Turn your eyes to this. This isn’t right. It’s all wrong.”</p><p>“Just to clarify,” Suzaku said, slowly. “It’s the Barbie dolls you’re playing with that aren’t right?”</p><p>“‘The Barbie dolls you’re playing with aren’t right, your majesty,’” C.C. corrected. </p><p>“My mistake.” Suzaku cleared his throat. Lelouch didn’t look at him—Lelouch never met his eyes, not anymore—but his head did fall into his hands as he began to rub his temples. His hat seemed to deflate. “The Barbie dolls you’re playing with aren’t right, your majesty?”</p><p>“No, Suzaku.” Lelouch said, thinly. C.C. snorted. “The dolls are not right. The dolls are quite wrong.”</p><p>“Ah. Thank you for clarifying, your majesty.” </p><p>“We were just checking, your majesty.” C.C. leaned forward, presumably with the intention to fix the drooping hat, but Lelouch flinched away from her. Turning his nose up haughtily, he righted it himself. C.C.’s hands dropped and her face emptied itself of expression. Exhausted by both their dramatics and the uncomfortable feeling of always being the intruder, Suzaku turned away from them, focusing instead on the doll wielding the calligraphy pen like a fine sword. And just like that, he realized exactly what he was looking at. </p><p>As if he’d read his mind, Suzaku felt Lelouch’s eyes on him. He did not turn to meet them. He did not look back. Suzaku was unsure whether this was bravery or cowardice. </p><p>“It isn’t right.” Lelouch repeated quietly. Suzaku felt something ugly and mean claw at his chest. It ate through his arteries and left him raw. Or numb. He couldn’t distinguish between being on fire and having already burned to ash, not with the match and the lighter sitting so carefully close. </p><p>“It’ll never be right.” He said, and now C.C. was looking at him as well. Suzaku felt like a wild animal, cornered, alone. Desperate and baring his teeth. He hadn’t meant to sound so cold. </p><p>“If you two are going to be like this for the rest of the night, I’m going to bed.” C.C. announced, folding her arms with contempt. </p><p>“I need to figure out the positioning. If it isn’t perfect, the aerodynamics of the Zero suit won’t matter.” Lelouch said flatly. Suzaku had to grab onto the carpet to keep himself from lunging, from punching Lelouch in his disdainful, disinterested, disengaged fucking face. </p><p>“The aerodynamics of the Zer—are you kidding, Lelouch?” </p><p>“Every little detail is important.” Lelouch insisted. His tone had adopted a nasally absent quality now, like he was no longer listening, like he had better things to do, and if it went on for a second longer, Suzaku was going to wield these Barbie dolls like goddamn nunchucks. And then Lelouch said: “What do you think?”</p><p>“What?” Suzaku asked, short-circuiting. </p><p>“Where would you have it happen? Where do you want to do it?”</p><p>“Where do I want to kill you?” Suzaku clarified and Lelouch gave him a strangled little laugh, nodding. Suzaku turned to the dolls. He blinked. The doll holding the calligraphy pen was decked in a fluorescent green ball gown, which he hoped was not a part of Lelouch’s assassination story boarding. The target stood in a cheetah-print two-piece. He frowned. </p><p>“Wait.” C.C. said, suddenly. She switched the doll Suzaku had been studying with the one in her hand; upon further inspection, he realized it was not a regular Fairy Princess, but one of the Sugar Plum variety. Light, elegant lilac. “That one fits you best.”</p><p>“The lengths being trekked so you can compare me to a fairy right now are irredeemable, Witch.” Lelouch said, slightly incredulous.</p><p>“You couldn’t pull off a cheetah-print.” Suzaku agreed and Lelouch made a small noise of indignation. Something horribly and pervertedly fond pressed on the wound in Suzaku’s insides. He refocused on the matter at hand. Where did he want to kill Lelouch? The placement right now was awkward—it was just far enough that the attacker stood on a separate platform while still being able to drive the sword through the intended body. Suzaku tentatively grabbed the doll by her green gown. Lelouch clucked his tongue disapprovingly. </p><p>“Careful,” he admonished. “Those are expensive.”</p><p>Suzaku ignored him. He placed the doll on a box that sat behind them, then simulated a path where Ball Gown Barbie flaunted whatever aerodynamics there were to show off, and stabbed the calligraphy pen into the Sugar Plum Fairy’s back, much closer than the positioning had had them before. </p><p>“There.” Suzaku said, satisfied. </p><p>Lelouch was quiet for a long time. And then, finally, he uttered a definitive “No.”</p><p>“Why not? It’s perfect.”</p><p>“It’s cowardly.” Lelouch said snidely, and Suzaku scowled. </p><p>“What's the colloquialism? Taking it from the back?” C.C. innocently jumped in. Lelouch grabbed a spare pillow and lunged it at her. Despite their proximity, he missed by a wide margin, which Suzaku might’ve laughed at if he wasn’t so fucking annoyed. </p><p>“What’s wrong with that setup? I’m close enough to you that it doesn’t look awkward or planned. And this way, the people see Zero first. They’ll know he’s on their side before they know anything else.”</p><p>“Not there.” Lelouch said firmly. </p><p>“Why not?” Suzaku pushed. Lelouch said nothing. “Why not, <em>your majesty</em>?”</p><p>“Enough.” Lelouch hissed, fists clenched around his nightgown. “I’ve said no. I’m the Demon Emperor. What I order is law.”</p><p>“Right.” Suzaku started getting up, shaking his head disbelievingly. “With all due respect. Go fuck yourself, your majesty.”</p><p>“I want to see you when you do it.” Lelouch said and Suzaku froze. He slid his eyes over to Lelouch, who was staring at the two dolls with an intensity that Suzaku felt thankful he wasn’t subject to. Lelouch’s voice was faraway, but regal, commanding. It was a royal’s voice. It was the voice of a little boy trying to fill an empty room. “Call it a final request.”</p><p>“Isn’t it easier to get it over and done with?” Suzaku said. He was finding it difficult to breathe. Lelouch’s nostrils flared, eyes widening slightly. </p><p>“Isn’t it easier to get my life over and done with.” Lelouch said. Suzaku had to bite back a resounding <em>yes. </em>“I don’t want my orchestrated murder to be a surprise, actually. Call me modern.”</p><p>“Lelouch—”</p><p>“I want to look you in the eyes when you do it.” He said quietly, a fanatical, obsessive look contorting the delicate edges of his face. Suzaku turned away, digging his nails into his arms. He extended the corresponding Barbie doll towards Lelouch. Before he could grab it, C.C. snatched it away from them and violently threw it at the nearest wall. It landed on a painting, sending it crashing down, and the resulting clanging of the gold frame hitting the marble floors made Suzaku wince. </p><p>“You are both immature, awful children who have no idea about anything. <em>Anything.</em>” She hissed. She was standing now, towering over the two of them, dark eyes flashing dangerously as she looked between them both with disdain and anger and—sadness, too. But C.C.’s eyes were always sad, anyway. It was hard to tell whether that was just residue. </p><p>“C.C.” Lelouch started, but did not keep going. </p><p>“You two deserve each other. Just like them.” She said. Her voice was deceptively soft. Lelouch looked at her like a condemned man. “That’s all any of this really means, Lelouch. You’re just like them.” </p><p>“Then who, I wonder,” Lelouch said, coolly, “Does that make you?”</p><p>C.C.’s carefully curated face did not change. She didn’t fire back. There was a split second where Suzaku thought she might laugh. Then she turned on her heel. Deposited herself on the bed. Turned off the lights. And left them in the dark. </p><p>—</p><p>Zero was tired. </p><p>When he was Suzaku Kururugi, he thought he knew what being tired was, a marriage of convenience with the incessant, idle pace of unwanted life. Even when he found himself an aim, it drummed on. Even when he found himself a different aim, it drummed on. Suzaku had been a boy convinced he was inhuman and now he had to pay the price for it, and that price was the offering they raised up to the consciousness of C’s World, the flesh and blood of another boy—because that’s what Lelouch was when he died, a boy, a kid—and Suzaku had been so angry. He’d been so angry from the second Lelouch had explained it all with that goddamn look on his face, holding the Zero mask out to Suzaku like that was the offering and Suzaku was the god. But Suzaku had appointed himself as Lelouch’s judge and jury. The only natural progression from there was executioner. If the plan had to happen, and it did, then nobody else could’ve been the one. Lelouch didn’t trust anybody but him with it. That was another offering, in a way. If it had been presented to C.C or, God forbid, to Kallen—it might’ve killed him. </p><p>It was weird. His brain was weird. Thinking about Lelouch made it weirder. </p><p>He slunk into the room with his feet dragging, ready to collapse into the bed without taking anything but his mask off—what was the point, he wasn’t anything beyond a vessel anymore—before he felt a cool draft slip in through the open window. Zero frowned, relatching the lock the way he thought he’d done right before leaving. Had someone been in his room? It was likely. He had his fair share of fans both inside and outside of the palace, people itching to know his true identity even more so than they had Lelouch’s. </p><p>But the guards outside the wing were instructed to never let anybody in, not when his and Lady Nunnally’s rooms were located there. He grimaced. Had it been Nunnally, then? The idea made his stomach roll. Him and Nunnally were not currently on speaking terms, not how they used to be. They interacted daily, short commands from the soon-to-be Empress to her assigned protector, with Zero hardly ever responding verbally and Nunnally having given up trying to get more out of him. She’d tried, cornering Zero and demanding he take his mask off, her eyes wide and furious—did she remind him more of Euphemia or Lelouch in that moment? Did it matter anymore?—and Zero maintaining his ground. She had left, angry and so unlike how he’d ever seen her that what was left of his mangled heart ached. </p><p>She knew it was him, of course. How, he wasn’t sure. Had that been Lelouch’s intention? He doubted it. But Nunnally knew the actor formerly known as Suzaku had taken up the mantle of her brother’s old legacy, and she had spent a week begging him to talk to her, until <em>please, I just want to understand, </em>turned into <em>we don’t have to talk about him but I need to talk to somebody, </em>turned into <em>don’t you care? Is there nothing human left of you after all? </em>turned into <em>I’m drowning, Suzaku, he left me all alone, Suzaku, you can’t hide from me forever, Suzaku, I won’t allow it, Suzaku, Suzaku, Suzaku, </em>turned into cool acceptance and radio silence. Zero had been unable to throw her a bone, barely uttering a word of comfort as she cried. Unable or unwilling? Again, did it matter?</p><p>He wasn’t Suzaku anymore. He couldn’t be that for Nunnally. He needed to dedicate himself to being Zero, to commit wholeheartedly to his status as a stoic reminder of all that had been lost in the fight for justice, and why that fight continued. He didn’t want to hurt Nunnally, but he wasn’t allowed to be a person ever again. That was his atonement; a life lived dead. A machine. A statue. A barricade between the Lady and physical danger, but no emotional attachments. Everything that had ever gone wrong for him had come from being too alive. It wouldn’t be an issue any longer.</p><p>Then, he noticed the space on his nightstand that should’ve contained a small photograph. One of him and Lelouch and Nunnally as kids. The only one. He inhaled sharply, running his hand through the smooth table, as though the photo had turned invisible and he needed to feel his way back to it. But, no. Clearly, whoever had left his window open had taken the picture. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t about to go talk to Nunnally about this—he wasn’t shameless enough for that. </p><p>Besides, it was for the better. She needed it more than him, anyway.</p><p>Zero didn’t need anything.</p><p>—</p><p>For a few days after they first met, Suzaku thought Lelouch was weak. He crumpled beneath his fist so easily and it made Suzaku feel so glad to be alive, seeing the shock in Lelouch’s eyes—this was a prince? An almighty Britannian royal?—had made him so proud, in fact, that when he’d finished chewing him off for whatever stupid comment had been made, he’d dusted his hands off and helped Lelouch stand up. Lelouch had glared at him, rubbing his scraped elbows, rolling his eyes, before turning to fret over his baby sister, who was confused and alarmed by the fighting. This was long before guilt became the rule for the son of Genbu Kururugi, so it wasn’t remorse that tugged on his ribcage, but rather a curious ease. There had been an imbalance in Lelouch’s mind, but it was easily fixable. He took them both inside and in response to Lelouch’s whining, took him aside to bandage his wounds. </p><p>“Ow—careful!” Lelouch complained and Suzaku clucked his tongue. It was true that the skin looked a little rawer than Suzaku had been expecting, with decent blood coming from the scrapes and a sizable welt beginning to form on his cheek.</p><p>“You’re made of porcelain.” Suzaku muttered. Lelouch huffed.</p><p>“I am not. Humans are not made of porcelain.” He said, sticking his chin out. Suzaku finished bandaging his arms and moved to inspect the bruise below Lelouch’s eyes from where his knuckles had made contact.</p><p>“Not actually porcelain, stupid.” Suzaku rolled his eyes and Lelouch’s jaw dropped. </p><p>“You can’t call me that!” He hissed, which made Suzaku laugh. “You can’t mock me!”</p><p>“It’s my house.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“It’s my country! Now, shut up. I need to put this gross cream under your eye.”</p><p>“I don’t want gross cream under my eye!” Lelouch whined, pushing Suzaku away from him and folding his arms. He winced, clutching the bandages, lower lip jutting out. Suzaku laughed again, light and free as the rose petals that danced around him when the wind was particularly strong. </p><p>“If you don’t put it, then your cheek will be the size of the moon,” Suzaku said, before smiling crookedly and adding, “Stupid.”</p><p>“I am not stupid!” Lelouch’s voice was shrill, a higher pitch than Lady Nunnally’s. “I demand you stop calling me st—<em>mmph</em>.”</p><p>Suzaku, already bored, had closed Lelouch’s jaw with one hand to get him to stop talking, and was using his free hand to spread the gross cream across the welt. Lelouch was furious, eyes bugged out as far as they could go, trying to squirm his way out of Suzaku’s grasp to no avail.</p><p>“If you’re porcelain, I’m metal.” Suzaku announced, proudly, as he finished rubbing in the medicine and took a step back. </p><p>“I bit my tongue.” Lelouch despaired. “You’re crazy. I don’t like you one bit.”</p><p>“You’re stupid.” Suzaku retorted, without the usual heat. “But funny. Like a little cat.”</p><p>Lelouch seemed indignant for a moment, before it gave way to confusion. </p><p>“Cats are very astute animals. Is that how you describe cats here?”</p><p>“Cats don’t like me, so It’s how I describe cats. I’m here.” Suzaku shrugged. “My father’s prime minister. Does that make me Japan?”</p><p>“People are going through a lot of pain because of you, then, if it does.” Lelouch sniped and Suzaku blinked, furrowing his eyebrows. </p><p>“Why would you say that?” He asked, quietly. Lelouch stopped examining his elbows, eyes flicking over to consider the enigmatic ten-year-old looking at him searchingly. “It was mean. It hurt.”</p><p>“That hurt? You hit me in the face!” </p><p>“Not too hard! You’re just like, like,” Suzaku squinted, poking his tongue out as he looked for the right words. His accent was a little more noticeable now. Lelouch hadn’t told him yet that he and Nunna had been taught Japanese growing up, that they could switch back and forth as they pleased. After all, they hadn’t gotten along, so Lelouch didn’t feel the need to further their methods of communication. Watching him now, in that momentary second of concentration, Lelouch was too young to understand why the musical quality of this strange, wild boy felt like an enchantment passing through. “You’re like fine china. The vase in our kitchen. Things I’m not allowed to touch because they’ll break. Is that all Britannians?”</p><p>“I’m not like that.” Lelouch said. Suzaku tilted his head. “I’m <em>not</em>. I don’t break easily at all. You’re just a beast. I’ve never been hit like that by somebody my age. My sister and I aren’t weaklings.”</p><p>“Have you been hit like that by someone else?”</p><p>“Is that all you heard?”</p><p>“I don’t think Lady Nunnally is a weakling.”</p><p>“You don’t?” Lelouch said, surprised enough to skip over the omission of his own name. </p><p>“Not at all. She spent all night yesterday helping me find a lost frog while you were snoring.”</p><p>“A<em> frog</em>? What if it had been diseased!”</p><p>“See? Lady Nunnally would never say that.” Suzaku said, arms spread out like it was obvious and Lelouch was dumbfounded by his logic and his conclusions and the certainty with which he proclaimed both. “Lady Nunnally is an exception. I am Japan. You are Britannia.”</p><p>“I am <em>not</em> Britannia.” Lelouch snarled, jumping up. “I renounced Britannia and the throne! I am nothing like those people! I hate them! I hate Britannia!”</p><p>“You are Britannia, you are Britannia,” Suzaku sing-songed, the severity of this accusation flying over his naive head; he was not yet transformed by his actions; he was still a normal child. “You are Br—hey!”</p><p>Lelouch had slammed his palms into Suzaku’s chest, pushing him backwards with as much force as he could muster. Suzaku didn’t lose his balance, grabbing onto the bed frame, but it was enough to silence his taunting. Lelouch was glowering at him, set ablaze by his own brand of ferocity.</p><p>“Don’t you dare say that to me ever again.” Lelouch warned, low and as menacing as a ten-year-old princeling could get. Suzaku stared and stared, fascinated.</p><p>“So you have been hit by someone else, then? Someone Britannian?”</p><p>“Yes.” Lelouch answered, clipped, after connecting the dots with their previous conversation. Suzaku’s brain worked differently than his. Not better, but he was starting to see that it didn’t work worse, either. Just different. It kept him on his toes. “But that’s not why I hate them.”</p><p>“Why do you hate them?” Suzaku whispered, leaning forward, like they were sharing secrets. Lelouch considered him for a moment.</p><p>“They’re the reason for Nunnally’s pain. They’re why she cries at night. Because they killed our mother while she was in her arms. From the moment I saw her like that, thrown aside like a rag doll, I’ve hated Britannia. So don't you ever compare me to that place or I’ll kill you.” He said, steadily, and something in Suzaku reordered itself—<em>not weak,</em> he thought, looking at the poised, almost overwhelming determination in Lelouch’s face. He pictured him carrying his baby sister out of their mother’s limp arms, and the image almost made him wince. <em>Not weak, not weak, not weak at all.</em></p><p>Suzaku straightened and looked Lelouch dead in the eye. With a solemn expression, he stuck his hand out. Lelouch, after a moment’s hesitation, extended his own hand and linked their small fingers together. Lelouch thought he would shake it, but Suzaku placed his other palm over Lelouch’s knuckles and closed his eyes. Lelouch, befuddled, embarrassed, could do little else but watch the shadows of Suzaku’s softened face. He had long eyelashes, just like a girl. His hands were warm. For the first time since—since—Lelouch felt safe.</p><p>“Okay.” Suzaku said, exhaling and opening his eyes, letting their hands drop. “We’re starting new. No more war between us. You’re not Britannia. I am not your enemy, prince Lelouch.”</p><p>“I am not your enemy,” Lelouch echoed, feeling the words out for himself, before smirking slightly. “Prince Suzaku.”</p><p>“I’m not a prince, stupid.” Suzaku said, the golden afternoon light framing his curly hair like a crown of divinity, and Lelouch felt how wrong that statement was down to his bone marrow. </p><p>“Neither am I. I renounced my claim to the throne. I’m not a Britannian prince and I never will be. I’m better than that! I’m going to keep my sister safe, like none of them could.”</p><p>“I see,” Suzaku said, nodding. “You’re a knight. Well, let’s knight you then. Kneel.”</p><p>“What?” Lelouch asked, at a loss. Him? A knight?</p><p>“Kneel, st—Lelouch,” and for the first time in his entire life, Lelouch did as he was told, getting down on one knee and bowing his head. If anybody were watching the two, they’d agree with the boy’s assessment—Suzaku was a little prince, fascinated by knights and courage, with enough gold spun from his tongue to get the other prince, the actual prince, the exiled prince kneeling before him. He had to be a prince—or a magician—or a boy that you wanted to protect. Lelouch kneeled, waiting to be knighted. It was a beautiful, glorious day; fate loved cruelty, loved to make sure the knife was in deep before it was twisted, and it would soon come to pass that these children would never be allowed to stick to the roles they’d chosen for themselves, for each other—no, fate had other plans. </p><p>That didn’t matter, though, right now. </p><p>“I hereby dub thee Sir Lelouch, knight of Honor to the good Lady Nunnally.” Suzaku said, very seriously, as he tapped Lelouch’s left and right shoulders with a wooden sword. After a pause, he added, “And to Prince Suzaku Kururugi.”</p><p>Lelouch looked up at him, eyebrow raised.</p><p>“May you keep us safe from diseased frogs and evil Britannians. The end.”</p><p>From a distance, through the window, a deceptively unchanged C.C. watched, her expression as blank as the barren lands of future Japanese battlegrounds would soon be.</p><p>—</p><p>C.C. had to give Suzaku credit: he realized she was following him far quicker than she thought he would.</p><p>He stopped walking but didn’t turn around. </p><p>“What is it?” He said, flatly. Lelouch’s voice used to reverberate throughout the world when he was Zero; Suzaku’s voice rang out from the mask like it was a coffin. </p><p>“Nothing.” C.C. said, just as flatly, still walking. He remained stilled until she caught up to him and then they walked in tandem. She wore a silvery wig, cut below the chin, sunglasses, and a hideous Hawaiian jumper. A too-familiar brown jacket was tied around her hip. It was smart, using her outfit to distract from any recognizable features. He wondered how many times, if at all, he’d passed by C.C. at Ashford Academy without even batting an eye. </p><p>“Somebody might recognize that jacket. Milly. Or Rivalz. Or Kallen.”</p><p>“I don’t care.” C.C. answered, blithely. “What’s Little Miss Guren MK II going to do to me?”</p><p>“You’re not the one who has to deal with her on a daily basis.”</p><p>“Poor little Zero, are his freedom fighters getting on his nerves?” </p><p>“We can’t afford a scene.”</p><p>“Kallen won’t be there.” C.C. said, sounding so sure that Zero couldn’t help looking over at her from the corner of his eye. “She loved him too much.”</p><p>“Too much to say goodbye?”</p><p>“Is that what you think this is? Don’t tell me that after everything that’s happened you’re the same naive little boy from before.” </p><p>“It’s a funeral.”</p><p>“It’ll be a celebration. How does the curious song go? Ding, dong, the wicked witch is dead?”</p><p>“She looks fine to me.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be able to recognize fine if your life depended on it, Geassed or not.”</p><p>They disliked each other; they would be arguing with more venom, under any other circumstances, C.C. was sure. But Suzaku didn’t have any fight left in him. And C.C. was C.C. </p><p>“I know it’ll be a celebration.” Zero said, after a pause. “But it’s still a chance to say goodbye.”</p><p>“When she declared you were Zero before the blood on the sword had had the decency to dry, it required much more mourning than any funeral ever could. Kallen already said her goodbyes.” </p><p>“What about Kallen?” Kallen said, slipping out from behind a truck. The rest of the streets were empty, everybody gathered in the huge clearing half a mile away, where Diethard and other government figures had set up everything required to project the Demon Emperor’s image onto several screens, inciting a rally, inspiring chants about rising above fascism, about this funeral being the first step to freeing the world. He had to hand it to Lelouch. He’d really made sure everything would fall into place. </p><p>“You were wrong.” Zero said, tipping his head over to C.C. “She came, after all.”</p><p>“Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing in front of you.” Kallen spit out, and C.C. sighed.</p><p>“I don’t know if I can stand the both of you for an extended amount of time.”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Kallen said. Zero had missed the moment of recognition when she’d realized it was C.C. She seemed to have already known. “I’m not staying. I drove Ohgi and Villetta. I was about to drive back when I heard you two talking like you owned the goddamn world.”</p><p>“You were wrong.” C.C. echoed, smiling thinly. “She didn’t come, after all.”</p><p>“Oh, go to <em>hell</em>,” Kallen scoffed, glaring at them. The pain in her eyes was so blatant, so unhidden, that Suz—Zero had to look away. She noticed the shift and her gaze sharpened. “If this is what Lelouch wanted—” and both Zero and C.C. were unprepared to hear his name said out loud, “Then fine. For the Black Knights, for Japan, for the real Zero, I’ll play along. But I hope you can’t sleep at night.”</p><p>“Nothing for me?” C.C. asked, liltingly dry. “How very rude, Kallen Kozuki.”</p><p>“I already know you can’t sleep at night, C.C.” Kallen said, turning away from them and back towards the truck. “You couldn’t possibly be broken any further.”</p><p>And then she was gone, the truck speeding off in the direction of the quickly darkening sky. As if nothing had happened—and nothing had, nothing would ever really happen again—Zero and the Witch continued to walk in silence. Neither of them had anything to say to each other. They hadn’t had anything to say before, either. The fact of conversation was the same as the fact of their shared path to their victim’s funeral; that is to say, it was an inadmissible truth: there was a void in them both, and it bonded them together.</p><p>Still, Zero thought Kallen’s words should probably have been backwards. But him and C.C. were very similar in the end, after all. </p><p>—</p><p>Their last week together passed by in a blur; Suzaku can’t remember most of what happened. Lelouch, making sure everything was in order. C.C., making a comment about something or other just to get under somebody’s skin. Him, trying to decide what he should feel.</p><p>He hadn’t come to a conclusion yet, but here they were, the night before, getting drunk. Like real teenagers. Everything was decided—Zero would swoop in from the front and stab the Demon Emperor all the way through as neatly as possible, and be declared a hero, and then racism would be over, preferably. He snorted. Is that what Lelouch thought would happen? Dismantling the empire was going to be its own monstrosity, but not to worry! Lelouch had left instructions! Follow it to the letter and everything would succeed, because what were people’s lives but yet another game of chess?</p><p>Suzaku took the bottle of wine and drank from it directly. No use getting angry. This train was careening full throttle and all he could do was wait for impact. He rubbed his face, and turned to Lelouch and C.C., sitting across from him on the bed, engrossed in conversation. Suzaku realized, with a groan, that they’d brought the Barbie dolls out once more.</p><p>“Why are<em> they</em> here?” He demanded, pouting. A mermaid version of Barbie was staring at him. He scowled at her. C.C. shushed him and he turned his sour expression onto her. She was holding three dolls—a vampiric, platinum blonde, a brunette princess, and a Ken doll with crudely drawn sharpie lines on its face to make him look. . . old? Suzaku wasn’t sure.</p><p>“Dinners would be the worst.” C.C. divulged, shaking her head as she positioned the dolls around an invisible, imaginary table. Old Ken and Brunette Princess on one side, Vamp Blonde on the other.</p><p>“Which are you?”</p><p>“Is that necessary?” C.C. sighed, but she looked around for another doll anyway. Suzaku saw a Barbie with a black witch’s costume and green skin hiding behind a pillow. He grabbed it and held it up triumphantly. C.C. gave him an unamused look.</p><p>“What? It looks just like you.”</p><p>“Lelouch, tell him to stop being mean to me.”</p><p>“Lelouch, tell her that I’m just trying to help!”</p><p>Lelouch, who had barely touched his glass of wine, surveyed them quietly, the corners of his lips turned up slightly. C.C. sighed and took the Green Witch doll and positioned her next to Vamp Blonde. She shooed Lelouch away from his position next to her, as the dip in the bed was causing her dinner scene to collapse into itself. He protested weakly, before stretching like a cat and moving nearer to Suzaku, who stiffened. If Lelouch noticed, he didn’t make it known. Their shoulders brushed against each other; it was the closest they’d been in over a year. </p><p>“That’s where you had to sit? Next to V.V.?” Lelouch asked, disdainful but amused. C.C. gave him a very grave look.</p><p>“Every night. It was awful, Lelouch. He ate like a child.”</p><p>“He technically was a child.”</p><p>“He technicallywas a sixty-two year old.”</p><p>“What an ugly age to be immortal.” Suzaku mused. “Imagine going up to someone and being like ‘Oooooh, I’m immortal, bow down before my immense and neverending power!’ and then the other person’s like ‘Wow, that is so cool, are you two thousand years old?’ and then you have to tell them you’re <em>sixty-two</em>. Pathetic. Hate V.V. Hate that guy.”</p><p>“Yes, Suzaku Kururugi, that’s also why I hate V.V.” C.C. deadpanned. “How much of the sauvignon blanc did he have?”</p><p>“Too much.” Suzaku answered darkly. “It tastes very bad.”</p><p>“It’s the finest wine you can find on such short notice in Britannia.” C.C. noted airily. “I agree. It’s quite an awful taste.”</p><p>“Trust the two of you to be uncultured,” Lelouch said.</p><p>“Well, your majesty, you haven’t exactly gorged yourself on the rich taste of aged sauvignon blanc either, clearly.” C.C. countered, looking pointedly at his still rather full glass. Suzaku watched as the wine swirled around Lelouch’s cup, the singular lamp they’d left on casting a sickly glow on the drink. He felt, suddenly, very sleepy, and the side of his cheek fell onto Lelouch’s shoulder. The swirling of the wine stopped. </p><p>“I’m not looking to get particularly drunk tonight, Witch.” Lelouch said, carefully placing the glass on the nightstand next to him. </p><p>“I thought one should come to death smiling, not sober.” C.C. looked down at her assortment of dolls, expression unreadable. Her fingers idly brushed the hair of the Brunette Princess.</p><p>“One should do both.”</p><p>“Good advice,” Suzaku said, “That we will never use.”</p><p>C.C. snorted, but Lelouch sighed. Suzaku shifted, realized he was leaning on him, and pulled back, frowning.</p><p>“What? It’s true.”</p><p>“You’re not immortal, Suzaku,” Lelouch said, impatiently. “If somebody caught you off-guard and speared you through the gut, I promise you’d die.”</p><p>“You don’t know that.”</p><p>“Suzaku—”</p><p>“He’s right.” C.C. said. She was turned away from them, looking at the door. “You don’t know that.”</p><p>“The order was meant to make him want to live above anything else. Not render him unkillable.”</p><p>C.C. flicked her head back to look at him, and the rest of her face remained the exact same brand of impassive, but her gold eyes were narrowed, furious.</p><p>“Then you should have thought of a better order.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t have used an order at all.” Suzaku growled.</p><p>“Maybe so.” Lelouch answered, mildly.</p><p>“Could you at least pretend you’re sorry?” </p><p>“He’s not. He’d do it again.” C.C. said, standing, walking towards the door. “I’m going to get something to drink that isn’t disgusting.”</p><p>A beat of deafening silence. Suzaku turned to Lelouch, who was staring sullenly at the spot C.C. had occupied not two minutes ago. Something in Suzaku burned. It’d been three months and Lelouch hadn’t ever really met his eyes.</p><p>“Look at me.” He said. And when Lelouch didn’t react, again, “<em>Look at me.</em>”</p><p>Lelouch turned his head. The lamp was positioned behind him, which meant shadows clung to his face like spiderwebs. His eyes were carefully blank. Tomorrow, this man—this boy—would be dead. He already looked halfway there.</p><p>“Oh, God.” Suzaku despaired. “Oh God oh <em>God</em>.”</p><p>“Please, use my given name.” Lelouch said, which, unsurprisingly, wasn’t funny at all. </p><p>“Why did you do this to me? Why are you still doing it?” Suzaku said. Lelouch closed his eyes. “No. No, open them. You want to be looking at me tomorrow and, like always, Lelouch, you’re getting your way. I want you to look at me now.”</p><p>“She’s right, you know.” Lelouch said, but obeyed Suzaku regardless. “I would do it again.”</p><p>“Knowing how much it ruined me? How much you ruined me?”</p><p>“You know I’d do it again. Just like you would.” Lelouch said, and Suzaku wanted to protest, to say that taking him to Charles wasn’t the same thing as him forcing Suzaku to—to—except, it was, wasn’t it? Suzaku could’ve ended all of this on the island with one shot. It was a tactical decision, same as Lelouch’s, but would Suzaku do it again? Seeing where they ended up, knowing where it all went wrong? If given the chance, would Suzaku choose to kill him then, instead?</p><p>He looked at Lelouch; Lelouch looked at him. Everything about this picture was wrong and Suzaku had given up instead of trying to salvage it and now there was nothing he could do. </p><p>But.</p><p>“I would.” Suzaku admitted. “All of it.”</p><p>“Good Lord. I wouldn’t do <em>all of it</em> again.” Lelouch rolled his eyes, but the traces of that smile were clearer now. “I’d change a lot of things. You’ve always been such a sentimental fool.”</p><p>“You’re the one saying you’d use your evil power to keep your greatest enemy alive.”</p><p>“I thought you believed that to be a hateful act. Hardly sentimental at all.” Lelouch challenged, quirking an eyebrow. </p><p>“Was it?” Suzaku asked, and some awful, vindictive part of him hoped to God Almighty that the answer was yes.</p><p>“No,” Lelouch said instead. Suzaku leaned his head against a pillow, attentive to the weight of what Lelouch was confessing—of what Suzaku, when push came to shove, had already known, and had rejected outright. “It wasn’t hateful. It wasn’t tactical either, really. If you’d been a real enemy I never would’ve done that.”</p><p>“You didn’t consider me a real enemy?” Suzaku asked, irritated at himself for how upset the thought made him feel. </p><p>“How could I?” Lelouch laughed humorlessly. “My soldiers would be trying to kill you on the battlefield and all I ever wanted was to protect you. The night you were unmasked as the White Knight, Kallen was screaming at me for some sort of instruction that I couldn’t give. When they decided to target you I ordered them to stand down.”</p><p>“I took them on easily.” Suzaku protested and Lelouch shook his head.</p><p>“Yes, but it wasn’t about that.”</p><p>“I don’t understand.” Suzaku said stubbornly. </p><p>“You said that the Geass order I gave you corrupted your convictions.” Lelouch said.“The fact of you corrupted mine.”</p><p>“Oh, so now it’s my fault?”</p><p>“You are impossible.” Lelouch groaned, and Suzaku was impressed by how long he’d been holding eye contact. Suzaku would make him keep looking until their time was up. “It isn’t on me if you don’t like my motivations.”</p><p>“I really, really don’t.” Suzaku agreed. Lelouch swatted at his shoulder mildly. Suzaku flicked his forehead. Lelouch gave him an inscrutable look, before knocking his knuckles against Suzaku’s. He looked at him questioningly. Lelouch huffed, looked somewhere beyond Suzaku for a full three seconds, before looking back at their fingers and lacing them together. Suzaku stared at their hands, feeling strange, and confused, and not wanting to move at all. He shifted forward and placed his other palm over Lelouch’s knuckles. Lelouch mimicked him. They laid there, foreheads touching, looking at each other like they were little kids holding each other after a nightmare again. Like they were complete strangers; like they’d known each other for thousands and thousands of years. Like, like—there wasn’t a word for them, was there? Or if there was, Suzaku hadn’t found it. Hadn’t looked for it. Hadn’t wanted to. </p><p>“Are you scared?” He asked, voice too soft. He wondered if Lelouch could hear him.</p><p>“No.” Lelouch answered, so close his breath warmed Suzaku’s face. “I trust you.”</p><p>“I’m scared,” Suzaku admitted, “Of what comes after.”</p><p>Lelouch took one of his hands out of their knot and brushed the hair out of Suzaku’s face, impossibly gentle. He’d forgotten about this version of Lelouch: the one that was kind. Maybe Lelouch had, too. Maybe they both thought they had to forget. Suzaku doesn’t ever want to forget again. Things went wrong when he forgot about the good. He never wanted to be the kind of person that forgot about the good. He had to commit it all to memory. </p><p>But this was his last chance. There was a time limit now.</p><p>“What comes after is what I told you before.” Lelouch said, and Suzaku caught his hand before it could fall from his face, keeping it there. The hand was his now, Lelouch couldn’t have it back. “You will become a hero, Suzaku Kururugi.”</p><p>“Is that what I want?” Suzaku asked, and it was a genuine question.</p><p>“It isn’t about that anymore.” Lelouch said, and Suzaku bottled up the horror threatening to build in his chest cavity again. Lelouch was right. It wasn’t about what either of them wanted anymore. Even Nunnally’s dreams would be torn to shreds. Atonement had to be unselfish. Maybe Suzaku had been wrong all along; maybe he truly wanted to be a sinner. Would any of this be worth it? Could they not be granted one reprieve, did morning always relentlessly have to follow night?</p><p>But he knew what had to happen. And he’d agreed to it then. He still agreed. </p><p>“Teach me how to hate you.” Suzaku pleaded.</p><p>“Believe me, Suzaku, when I tell you I tried.”</p><p>“I knew when you were lying.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I didn’t make you tell the truth.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“It still didn’t work. I still couldn’t hate you. You failed.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I don’t know <em>why</em>.”</p><p>“In our next life, I will try harder.”</p><p>“To make me hate you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Will you hate me?”</p><p>“Suzaku.” Lelouch said, pained. There was a long moment of absolute silence, where Suzaku didn’t dare breathe. “There are universes out there that will never be discovered, whose laws we know nothing about, where everything could, by nature, be warped into its opposite. Where everybody I love, I hate, and everybody I hate, I love. Even there, even in that universe, I would find you, and I would make the world bend to my will, and I would still—” He stopped, recalculated. “I wouldn’t hate you.”</p><p>Suzaku stared at him. Inside his head, the sound of lightning storms and crickets played on a deafening loop. He saw Lelouch, and he saw Nunnally, and he saw himself: as very young children, first, and as very young adults, second. And a third, blurry image, of what they would look like twenty years from now. </p><p>“There’s a world out there where you get to grow old,” Suzaku said—such a devastating sentence, he had to take a second before continuing. “I will find it. That’s my job. I will, Lelouch—don’t laugh at me. I’m serious. Someday. I’ll find it.”</p><p>“And I’ll find you. I’m unfortunately very good at it.”</p><p>“Don’t joke. I’m serious.”</p><p>“I am dead serious, Suzaku. I’ll find you. But you have to let me.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>“Hm. Will you? You’ll have to prove that to me.”</p><p>“I will. It’ll be worth it, then. In that world. And nobody will have to die before their time. Nobody.”</p><p>“That includes you, correct?”</p><p>“Yes. In that world, I won’t want to.”</p><p>“Then we’ll find it.”</p><p>Someday, together.</p><p>“I think. . .” Suzaku stopped, fear coursing through him, fear and defeat and adrenaline and honesty all culminating in a chemical reaction, in a terrible, awful, cathartic realization. “Lelouch.”</p><p>“Yes, Suzaku?” </p><p>“I think our souls are tied.” He said, simply, reverently. Like a child who’d just discovered the stars in his storybooks were based on real ones. “And everything else aside,” all the anger, and the pain, and the reality of what they’ve done to each other, the horrific things they’ve continued to do, “It shouldn’t be true, Lelouch, but I think I’ve loved you for a very long time.”</p><p>Lelouch looked excruciatingly serious all of a sudden, and Suzaku wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. </p><p>“I know the Requiem is about unselfish atonement,” Lelouch said, and Suzaku had to stop himself from the conflicting, combative, completely new but persistent thought that the Requiem, really, was nothing other than a suicide, because Lelouch was closer now, their noses knocking together, and Suzaku’s brain shut off. “But will you let me be brutally selfish one last time?”</p><p>“Yes.” He sighed, and Lelouch kissed him. Pressed his mouth against Suzaku’s, nothing more and nothing less. Very chaste, very childish, probably. But they hadn’t been allowed to be children for so long. So they kissed like desperate kids. Just once. And then they pulled back.</p><p>It was, he realized belatedly, the first time Suzaku had ever been kissed. He looked at Lelouch and almost scientifically touched his own lips. His first kiss. How simple. How very, very complicated. He was quiet for a long time. Then:</p><p>“I’m cold.” He said, surprising a laugh out of Lelouch.</p><p>“You really are so strange, Suzaku. You sound like a little prince I knew many years ago.”</p><p>“Lelouch. Shut up. I want a blanket.”</p><p>“There’s one by the bay window.”</p><p>“Lelouch, I don’t want to get up—don’t you dare pull the ‘dying tomorrow’ card right now.” He said, seeing Lelouch’s mouth open. Like his younger self had years ago, he used the palm of his hand to close his jaw. “Really, since you <em>are </em>dying tomorrow, you should be taking advantage of every opportunity you have left.”</p><p>“I was under the impression I already was.” Lelouch challenged, and Suzaku rolled his eyes, biting the inside of  his cheeks to keep from smiling. One thing the Zero Requiem assured them—and this would be the last Suzaku would think of it until it was time, he swore it—was a momentary bubble of peace. Suzaku would grapple with Lelouch for the rest of his life. There were days it would be debilitating. But here and now, it didn’t have to matter. Suzaku would make it so it didn’t.</p><p>“I’m still cold.”</p><p>“There’s still a blanket.”</p><p>“You people are so annoying,” C.C. said, and Suzaku almost jumped out of his goddamn skin. Lelouch snorted. </p><p>“Suzaku’s cold.” </p><p>“I’m not your maid.” C.C. said, as she covered them with the blanket. </p><p>“How long were you watching?” Suzaku demanded, and C.C. gave him a very bored look.</p><p>“Do you think I would willingly subject myself to watching the Titanic sink?”</p><p>“You’re like the nurse in Romeo &amp; Juliet,” Lelouch muttered, eyes fluttering closed. Suzaku, alarmed, shook him slightly. Lelouch gave him a reassuring look. <em>It’s okay, it’ll be okay.</em></p><p><em>It won’t, </em>thought Suzaku, panic starting to sink in. <em>It won’t, it won’t, it won’t.</em></p><p>He forced himself to breathe. Bubble. Momentary peace before the chance for it is gone forever. Right.</p><p>“Eat your heart out, Lelouch Vi Britannia.” C.C. said, falling onto the bed, diving beneath the blanket, and promptly wrapping herself around Lelouch’s back. Her hands snaked around his waist, her nose pressed into his shoulder. He spared a hand to link together with hers. Suzaku tucked his head beneath Lelouch’s chin, Lelouch’s arm holding him impossibly close. Suzaku placed a hand over where C.C. held Lelouch, a silent acknowledgement of what would remain tomorrow after they both lost. A tenuous, blurry connection, but a connection nonetheless. </p><p>And they stayed like that—not sleeping, not talking, not moving—and they were many things; they were the whole of humanity, they were the edge of forever, they were a three-headed creature, a losing battle, a house on fire, a sinking ship, a train careening forward full-stop, waiting for the collision.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p>It took about another week for him to confront Nunnally about the photograph. After helping her change into her nightgown, as he did every night, he lingered by the door, hand ghosting over the knob.</p><p>“Did you need something?” Nunnally asked, forgetting to be unkind. </p><p>He dropped his hand and turned back to her, nodding. </p><p>“Then come, please.” She said, in between a yawn. “What is it?”</p><p>“Have you been in my room, Viceroy?”</p><p>“Your room?” She frowned, leaning against the head of her bed. “No, I can’t say I have. Why?”</p><p>Zero frowned. If not Nunnally, then who? He couldn’t go on a manhunt for the intruder—especially not for the sake of a picture of the Demon Emperor, the potential future Empress of Britannia, and the White Reaper as kids. </p><p>“Nevermind, then. Goodnight, Viceroy Nunnally.”</p><p>“No. Wait.” She said, blinking the sleep away from her bleary eyes. She seemed more alert now, seemed to remember who she was talking to. “Tell me, Master Zero.”</p><p>“It’s nothing, really.” He said, but Nunnally’s wide eyes insisted. This was the first time they were talking, truly talking, about anything that wasn’t duty-related. “I returned to my room last week after a meeting with the Black Knights to find that somebody had broken into my room.”</p><p>“Did they take anything?” Nunnally implored, and the look on her face—that hunger to connect with him still uneroded in the wake of her anger; the fervent need to keep the conversation going as long as possible, and Suzaku couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t; what a family this was, a family of saints and murderers who haunted and forgave him no matter the transgression—made him walk to the rocking chair where Sayoko used to read to her as a little girl and sit down. Nunnally gripped the covers so tight her hands shook. </p><p>“A photograph. Nothing else.”</p><p>“You don’t have many things. But you never did, really.”</p><p>“I guess not.”</p><p>“You never needed much.” Nunnally said, and Suzaku closed his eyes behind the mask. Nunnally should know by now that that wasn’t true. “What was it a photograph of?”</p><p>“Us.” Suzaku said, and he felt his throat close up. God, no. Not right now. He hadn’t cried since—</p><p>“Us two? From when?”</p><p>“All of us.” He said, gritting his teeth against the burning behind his eyes. It was so terribly familiar. “From when we were young.”</p><p>“Oh.” Nunnally said, sounding very faraway. </p><p>“I’m sorry to bother you with this. I’ll leave.” He said, standing up shakily, but Nunnally rushed forward, grabbing onto his suit, tugging him closer until she could comfortably grab his arm. Zero let himself be pulled. What was the use in denying her? </p><p>“We’re still young,” Nunnally declared, emphatic, and fragile, and so, so sad, “We’re still young, Suzaku.”</p><p>He flinched, but her grip on him was iron-tight and uncompromising. There were tears in her eyes that mirrored his own. She pulled him closer, and he knew what she wanted, so he bowed his head. She slipped off his mask, the teardrops spilling down her cheeks and past her close-lipped smile. She seemed to have an endless supply; all he could think was <em>I need to wipe the Viceroy’s tears, she’ll never get to sleep in this state, </em>but as he reached to do just that, she pushed his hands down. With one hand tight around his wrist, she threw the Zero mask across the room with all the force she could muster, a frustrated, mournful whimper accompanying the clattering of the mask against the wall. It reminded him of C.C. and the doll, but it was nothing like that at all, because Lelouch was dead now. Nunnally turned back to him, breathing heavily and painted pink by how violently she was crying, looking at him, looking into him, looking for him. How long had she been looking for him? Without the mask to hide behind, his face was a gushing wound, cracked open, and he knew he must not look that different from her, but that wasn’t the point. She was in such pain. Such blatant pain. And he’d caused it—he’d furthered it. How badly she needed him, how selfish he’d been. She blinked, and there was a fresh flow of tears. But it was the resilience in the determined crinkling of her nose that struck him the most. She was Euphemia, she was Lelouch. She was neither. She was Nunnally. She was Nunnally—and he was Suzaku, Suzaku Kururugi, at least right now, in this room, with his surrogate sister—with his goddamn little sister—he could be Suzaku Kururugi for her, if that’s what she needed. Lelouch wanted him to be Zero, but Lelouch would have to sit back and deal with it. Lelouch was dead, and here Suzaku and Nunnally were, so unequivocally alive.</p><p>“Do you have any other pictures of our family?” He said, gently, and Nunnally’s watery smile grew. She patted the space next to her and he followed the order, maneuvering himself onto the bed and curling around her like a shield. </p><p>“Yes, Suzaku. Yes.” She said, voice breaking. “Suzaku, I have so many. I have so many.”</p><p>“We’ll look at them. Tomorrow morning. Together.”</p><p>“In the garden. Near the lake.”</p><p>“In the garden, near the lake.”</p><p>“And—and—we’ll look for frogs.” She said, arms wrapped tight around Suzaku, clinging to him like a lifeline. He settled his chin on top of her head, running clumsy fingers over her tangled hair. “Right, Suzaku?”</p><p>“Yes, Nunnally.” He closed his eyes; he smiled a genuine smile. “And we’ll look for frogs.”</p><p>—</p><p>“Lady Nunnally, guess what!”</p><p>“What, Suzaku?”</p><p>“I’ve made your big brother Lelouch a knight!”</p><p>“Really? How beautiful! Our sister Cornelia used to read us stories about knights. Mommy was a knight, too! Oh, big brother, are you really a knight?”</p><p>“Yes, Nunnally. Your knight.”</p><p>“And mine.”</p><p>“. . . And Suzaku’s.”</p><p>“Then I swear I’ll never feel scared ever again! Because Lelouch will protect us forever!”</p><p>“Yes, Nunnally, forever and ever. Right, Lelouch?”</p><p>“Yes, Suzaku. Forever and ever.”</p><p>“And ever and ever?”</p><p>“And ever.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>anyway<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/szkururugi">twitter</a><br/><a href="https://utenagf.tumblr.com">tumblr </a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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